Irresistable
by WriterJC
Summary: If you could change just one thing...


IRRESISTIBLE

by Jackee C.

A harried Margaret Thatcher brushed an errant strand of hair behind an ear as she worked frantically in her word processor, pen between her lips. A sudden tap at the door intruded into her train of thought. 

"What is it?" she mumbled past the pencil, not looking up from the computer's screen as she tried to refocus on what she'd been thinking. 

The tap came again. 

With an irritated sigh, she pulled the pencil from her lips and called more loudly, "Come in!" and went back to her typing. Her fingers faltered when a tall man with long, flame red hair stepped into her office. 

"Yes? Can I help you...?" she let the sentence trail off, irritation momentarily forgotten. There was something compelling about the man. 

"Yes, thank you," he spoke softly, working the long dimples in his heavily lined face. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Carouthers and I'm here to present you with an irresistible offer." 

Inspector Thatcher rose to shake the man's hand and then gestured that he sit, while she racked her brain for any memory of an appointment that she may have forgotten. 

"What offer is that, Mr. Carouthers?" she asked politely again seated behind her desk. 

Carouthers smiled secretively and pulled a loop of gray yarn from an inner pocket. "I'm here to offer you a second chance at happiness." 

"Do you have an appointment?" Thatcher asked, voice ten degrees cooler. 

"No," Carouthers responded blithely 

"I see," Thatcher nodded, already turning back to her word processor. "Then the man you want to talk to is two doors over to the left. Constable Fraser." 

Constable Benton Fraser glanced over at his wolf, all the while his fingers still moving quickly over the computer keyboard. "I know we've been in this office all day, including lunch, but Inspector Thatcher has given us implicit instructions to not leave this office until we are done." 

Dief whined piteously. 

"Oh. Well in that case..." Fraser quick-saved his work and moved to open the door for his wolf. "And remember to flush this time," he spoke reprovingly as the animal passed into the outer office area. 

When he looked up a tall red-haired man stood before him. "Oh! Hello, there, uh...Mr. ...?" Fraser allowed the sentence to hang. 

"Carouthers," the man filled in the blank. "I was directed to speak to you about an irresistible offer." 

Fraser's brows went up a bit as he introduced himself with a nod. "Constable Benton Fraser." His eyes widened even more so at the strength behind the man's hand shake. "Please, come in," he gestured the man into his office. 

When he was seated before Fraser's desk, Carouthers again pulled out the gray loop of yarn. "Jacob's ladder?" he asked, looping the yarn around his hands. 

"Ah, yes," Fraser said and moved to a seat near Carouthers' to help make the design. 

"You do that very well, Constable," the man spoke admiring their work. "You must have learned from a professional." 

"In a manner of speaking," Fraser nodded with a small smile. 

"Yes. I can see that," the man spoke cryptically before putting the yarn away. "Constable, I'm about to ask you a question. I want you to think very carefully before you answer it." 

Fraser's brow furrowed but he nodded. "All right." 

"Is there anything in your past that you, if given a chance, would do over?" 

"Are you serious?" Ben asked, momentarily taken aback by such a question from a total stranger. 

"Yes, quite serious," Carouthers replied. 

Ben made a face as he thought back. He thought of his father and all of the things he would have liked to have said to him while he was alive and then he thought of the journals. He'd made his peace with his father. He began to shake his head. 

"Think very carefully, Constable," Carouthers insisted before Ben could say no. 

Another image flashed through Fraser's mind, that of a dark-haired woman who'd held the key to all that he was. 

"Yes," Carouthers nodded understanding. "I see that there is something..." 

"Yes, you're correct. There is something that I had wished very desperately that I could change," Ben admitted solemnly. 

"Benton Fraser, you are an honorable man," Carouthers grinned. He again removed the loop of yarn from his pocket and handed it to the Mountie. "You deserve such a choice." 

Ben took the yarn curiously. It was just ordinary yarn as far as he could tell, though the shininess of the fibers suggested that it consisted of a high percentage of manmade materials. In fact Ben found that the strands were quite fascinating; he couldn't draw his eyes away from them. 

The fibers began to blur as a sudden wave of dizziness gently rolled over him. He closed his eyes to stave it off . When he opened them again, the chill dampness of snow filled the night air blew across his face. 

"Ben, please," a soft, feminine voice spoke earnestly. "Nobody knows about me..." 

Ben's head jerked in the direction of the voice. He eyes widened at the sight of Victoria bundled in his sleeping bag, her expression pleading. 

"Constable," another voice called to Ben from his other side. 

Ben turned to see Carouthers standing there, unaffected by the cold and snow. "She can't see me," he informed the Mountie. Carouthers then raised a hand ceremonially and the scene froze. Snow flakes stopped in mid-air. 

"Do you want to continue on with this?" Carouthers asked quietly. 

Ben gazed at the man, and back at the woman frozen in an expression of desperation and ... was that love shining in her eyes? "Yes," he murmured. 

"There are consequences," Carouthers continued warningly. 

"Consequences?" Ben turned back to the man. 

"Yes. After you've done what you've come to do differently, you will retain no memory of the future, because the future in this time is not yet. And no, before you ask, you won't be trapped here. When the time is right, I will return. At that time you may choose to return to your previous life, exactly where you left off or you may choose to remain." 

Carouthers looked beyond Ben toward Victoria. "So, Constable, take it or leave it?" 

Ben closed his eyes as he thought of days and nights so long ago, tangled in time. "Come with me, Ben," she'd said. "You'll regret it if you don't." "Let me go, Ben. Nobody knows me..." "How could you do that to me? How could you..." "Love, hate...yeah, that about covers it..." The memories he'd thought long buried rose to the surface so easily, now. And though she sat frozen in time, he could feel the connection that drew them together. It was almost a physical thing, pulling and tugging at his resolve to push old pain back to its place. 

But something about the earnestness and desperation in her face gave him a new hope that he hadn't considered before. The shadows and bitterness of *her* pain weren't there. Not yet. He had been to blame for the presence of those things, he realized. And now, just one act of faith on his part might prevent all of that, give her a second chance. He took it. 

"Thank you, Ben." Her voice was full of gratitude and emotion. "Thank you more than I can say. I know it goes against all that you've been trained to do. I--I wasn't sure you could do it." 

"I had to," Ben gazed down at her, drinking in the familiar features, feeling the old memories of pain and sorrow blowing away with the gentle flurries. "I would have regretted it if I didn't." 

A small frown creased her brow as she smiled at him. "Hold me for a little while longer, Ben." 

As night closed in more fully around them, the inevitable time of parting approached. Ben sat silently and watched as she braided and tucked her hair beneath the hood of her coat, and his extra gloves into a pocket. With a sigh he retrieved a thermos and handed it to her. 

"Thank you," she whispered as their eyes locked, transmitting a wealth of things unspoken. 

Ben nodded. "Be careful." He couldn't bring himself to say good-bye. 

Victoria sighed almost wistfully before she turned and walked away, not looking back. 

Ben watched her go until she faded into the horizon. And when she'd faded he kept watching, hoping again for a glimpse of her. Even though her image was burned into his mind and her voice into his heart, he needed to feel her near, to touch her, just once more. But it was not to be. 

When the sun peeped over the steeple of the town church, glistening brilliantly against the blanket of white, he knew. It was time to move on.   
  


Ben sat meditatively against a filing cabinet, sipping a mug of something warm, when a voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Ah, there Ben! Good to see you made it back. I was worried about even you out there in *that* storm." Joe Sommers clapped the Mountie on the back, nearly causing him to spill the hot liquid. 

Ben gave his friend a welcoming smile. "Thanks, Joe. It was a rough trip." 

"Yeah. But there's news about that robbery up in Alaska, just came in this morning." 

"Really?" Ben straightened. "What kind of news?" 

Joe lifted a craggy brow. "You want another crack at her, huh?" 

Ben froze, paling. "Pardon?" 

Joe waved Ben's behavior off with a grin and continued to update him on the case. "We just got this in," he handed over a sketch of the suspected driver in the robbery. "We got this one on the other one just after you went out." He pulled another sketch of a thin faced man from a folder. 

Ben took both pictures, but he couldn't take his eyes from the one of Victoria. 

"Seems she was spotted not too far south of that outpost you came out at. I figured you'd want another crack at her since she was so close and all." 

Ben nodded distractedly. "No, Joe. I've put in for some time off." 

That got Joe's brows up. "You? Time off? Rough must not have been the half of it." 

"No, not the half of it," Ben agreed, rolling up the copy of the sketch. 

The cabin stood like an old friend against the backdrop of the great white expanse of snow. Ben could feel his thoughts clearing with each step closer to the rugged building. Robert Fraser and his son both viewed it as a haven, but they rarely spent time there together. This time was no exception. When night fell, the pleasant aroma of stew emanated from the pot over the fire place. The dogs were fed, and the chores were done. Ben settled at the rough wooden table to enjoy his meal. 

He was surprised when the door burst opened and a flurry of tan Stetson and deep blue stomped into the room. The figure pushed back the Stetson to reveal the handsome face of Robert Fraser. 

"Ben," he nodded in greeting to his son, as if it hadn't been more than 6 months since they'd last seen one another. 

"Dad." Ben returned the greeting in like manner. "Would you like some stew?" 

"Don't mind if I do," Robert answered, pulling out of heavy outerwear as his son dished up another bowl. "What kind is it?" 

"Jackrabbit." Fraser answered. "The old traps are still good." 

Robert nodded. "They oughtta be. I taught you how to set 'em, just like my grandpa taught me." 

Ben nodded and sat across from his father. 

"Joe tells me you're taking some time off," Robert broached the subject, digging ever so slightly. 

Ben's eyes rose to met his. He should've seen this coming. "Well, they do give us vacation for a reason, Dad." 

"Yeah," Robert nodded taking another bite of stew. "But you usually plan a vacation. You feeling all right?" 

Ben gave his father a small smile. "I'm fine, Dad. Uh...I just thought I'd take a little break after this last trip." 

"You gotta get back on that horse son, or you never will." Robert spoke firmly. "You can't go around babying yourself after you fall." 

"I didn't *fall*, Dad." Ben sighed, this wasn't something he was going to be able to explain to his father. His father would never understand how, he, a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman could dishonor his uniform and actually let a criminal go free. He didn't understand it himself. It was as if something had come over him in that moment when he'd committed himself to the action. 

"Son," Robert said, scooping up the last of his stew. "Sometimes you get caught between a rock and a hard place and you feel trapped. When that happens its important to remember that what's right doesn't always feel right and sometimes you gotta go with your gut." 

Ben stared back at his father with an expression of gratitude. 

Robert gave his son a strange look as he shrugged back into his coat, but continued, "I've been there myself, Son. There are times when duty says you go out in a storm, when your gut says if you go out you won't be back. Right now my gut tells me I got a job to do. Good-bye, Son." 

"Good-bye, Dad." 

A gentle snow continued to fall through the night, leaving a fine dusting that covered the footsteps that'd led to the front door of the cabin. It was as if Robert Fraser had not come. 

Ben sat at the window and watched as the flakes fell gently, slowly, inexorably covering everything. Suddenly there was a movement on the edge of his vision. He stood for a better look. 

Sure enough a figure was coming across the field of while riding a snow mobile. The form was familiar. He whispered the name. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked as she dismounted. 

"It's too dangerous for you to be here." 

"Dangerous?" Victoria questioned. "Why would it be dangerous? Nobody knows who I am, do they Ben?" Her tone was suspicious. 

"They do, and they know your name." 

"But, how could they know?" Victoria persisted. 

"Someone else saw you at the scene, someone who could identify you." 

Victoria's suspicious expression persisted a moment longer, then collapsed into anxiety. "What am I gonna do, Ben? I can't let them find me." 

"Then why'd you come here?" Ben asked. 

"I couldn't leave like that. I needed to see you again." She took a step closer. "We were meant to be together, Ben." 

Ben stared at her, torn. She was a known fugitive. He was an officer of the law. Inviting her in would go against every instinct that had been ingrained into him during his training. He opened his mouth to turn her away. 

"Ben...?" she implored, glancing quickly around the terrain. The hands that she buried in the pockets of her parka trembled as her eyes again came to rest in his. He saw desperation there, and something else. 

"Go on inside," he found himself saying. 

A light glowed in Victoria's eyes as she ran to him then, threw her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing her cold lips to his. "Thank you. You won't regret this." 

Ben's arms reluctantly went around her, and then he turned and pushed her toward the front door. "There's soup on the stove." He told her, then moved toward the snow mobile. It's bright splashes of color would stand out against the snow covered plain. He would have to hide it behind the woodshed. A feeling of increased trepidation washed over him as his mind went through means of covering her tracks. Any Mountie worth his salt could track her mobile out here. There was really only one solution. 

When Ben re-entered the cabin, Victoria had arranged two place settings of stew at the table. Ben ignored the one she'd set aside for himself, and went toward a corner of the cabin in search of his pack. 

"This is delicious," Victoria said, licking her lips. "You're a good cook, too. I should have known." Her eyes lingered over him as he began to add provisions and clothing to his pack. "What are you doing?" 

"We can't stay here," Ben said. "Your snow mobile can be too easily tracked. We need to remove the tracks leading to the cabin, and then move in another direction. I'll get you out of here, and then you're going to have to move on. We can't be together, Victoria." 

"I know that," she said hesitantly, setting her bowl aside. "I just wanted to see you once more. Ben, something happened between us out there, something special. Something that only happens once a life time. I couldn't just abandon it. I think you felt it too." 

Ben's hands slowed in their packing. "I felt it," he quietly admitted. Then, resuming his pace. "We should hurry." 

Ben glanced over the cabin. It was in the same neat order in which he'd found it. His eyes settled on the shelf, upon which sat a small wooden box. It contained pictures of his mother and other momentos he'd collected over the years. On impulse, he strode across the room and took it off the shelf. There should be enough room in his pack. 

Turning toward the door, and the woman waiting for him, he didn't look back. 

They settled for the night in a small shelter in middle of the forest. If they pushed hard they would reach the town of Icarug sometime around the noon the next day. It was larger than the closest town, which Ben felt would increase the chances that Victoria would not be recognized. 

"You haven't spoken more than a handful of words all day," Victoria told him from her position across the fire. Her eyes were mildly accusing. Each of her attempts to start a conversation during their trek had led to only monosyllabic responses. "Are you having regrets about helping me. If so, you can just head back to your cabin. I can find my own way from here." 

Ben raised his eyes from contemplation of the fire. How could he tell her that every since he'd made the decision to let her go, something dark had entered into his life. All his choices in the now, and into the future were tinged with dishonestly and evasion. How could he tell her that his life would never be the same, that he could never again be an honorable man? 

When he didn't respond, Victoria moved to her feet and began packing up the camp. "You go on back," she began tearfully, but also with an edge of steel to her voice. "I can handle it from here. I'm sorry that I've interfered with your life and led you down this path. I just thought... " her voice trailed off, and she sighed. "I thought..." She suddenly dropped the pack she'd been holding, ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of abject misery. "I'm in love with you, Ben. I...I'm scared....please." 

Ben watched her for several moments. Then moved toward her, pulled her into his arms. " I won't leave you here alone," he said. "I wish that there were some way we could be together, but there isn't." 

"There has to be a way," Victoria cried, snuggling closer in his arms. "There has to be." 

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, and drew his lips to hers, he began to wish that there were. There had to be. 

"Good morning, Victoria," Ben smiled at the woman in his arms as she stirred. 

"Morning," Victoria returned, planting a kiss on his lips. "Pleasant dreams?" 

Ben merely smiled, then sobered as he glanced through the tent flaps at the rising sun. "We need to get moving." The longer they remained, the greater the chance that they'd be found. 

Victoria nodded, moving obediently about the tent, preparing to leave. 

"We'll have breakfast after we set out," Ben said, turning to his own side of he tent. 

Within minutes they were on their way. 

"What do you think?" Ben asked as he led Victoria into a small apartment. 

"I'm happy as long as you're here," she said, barely glancing over the sparse accommodations. The apartment had become necessary as the boarding houses asked too many questions and the motels were all booked up due to the storm. The snow mobiles were all rented out. And because the Weshung high way had been snowed over, it would be another two days before the bus could get in to transport stranded travelers out. "Although, I think you paid too much." 

"It was a fair deal. The land lord asked very few questions. He didn't even ask our names." 

Victoria's brows went up and she wrapped her arms about Ben's neck, planted a kiss on his mouth. "Listen. I want to go out and get a few things," she said. 

"I don't' think that's wise," he said. "Are you sure?" 

"I just...need some things," she said, grasping both sides of his shirt, a beguiling smile on her lips. 

"You'll be careful?" Ben asked, drawn in. 

"Very careful," she drawled. "I want to come back home to you. I always want to come home to you." 

Ben drew her convulsively closer, branded her with his kiss and then let her go. She waved over her shoulder at him as she slipped out of the door. Ben waved back, and turned to checking out the apartment. First thing, he needed to get some heat going in the place. It was down right chilly. Victoria would appreciate that, he was sure. 

Hours later Ben awakened. Night had fallen and the apartment was unpleasantly warm, and empty save for himself. Ben moved toward the window and gazed out. Nothing moved, the central street of the little rented horses seemed to be abandoned save for the lonely shapes of old automobiles, most long out of commission. A chill went through Ben as he began to imagine what might have happened to Victoria. It should not have taken her so long to gather whatever she'd needed. The general store was only half a mile away. 

Dragging on outerwear, he opened the door to step out was surprised to find Victoria moving frantically toward him. 

She urged him back into the house and closed the door. A large paper bag was in her arms and a dark satchel slung over and a shoulder. 

"What happened?" he asked, the look on her face shooting tendrils of fear through his system. 

"I thought someone saw me," she said. "I didn't want to take any chances so I took the long way home." She placed the bag on a ragged chair and glanced through a slit in the curtained windows. "There's no one there." 

They moved into one another's arms, trembling. "It's okay," Ben murmured in an attempt to convince both himself and this woman he'd come to love. "It's going to be fine." 

Ben woke with a start. Victoria was no longer at his side. Sliding from beneath the covers, he moved through the apartment. Something about the preternatural stillness alerted him to an unseen danger. 

He found her in the living room, riffling through her satchel. 

She jerked in stunned surprise as he settled near her. "What are you looking for?" 

Her eyes were wild in the half light. "Someone is outside." 

Ben's back straightened. "Are you sure?" 

Victoria ignored the question as she found what she'd been looking for. The guns shown menacingly in the darkness. 

Ben gaped. "Where did you get those?" he asked. 

"Where do you think?" she replied. "One of them is yours. I thought we might need it." 

"Victoria -- " Just then a creaking near the rear of the apartment ended the argument. 

Victoria shoved the gun into his hands, and moved alongside the wall that led along the hallway from which the sound had come. Ben could do little but to follow her motions. 

The creaking steps ceased and Victoria poked her head around the corner of the wall. A shot rang out and her body was thrown to the floor as the bullet impacted her shoulder. 

"Victoria!" he cried just as the front door burst in. 

Things began to happen slowly. His eyes were drawn first to the anguished expression of the woman he loved as she writhed in pain. There was a whizzing sound as a bullet shot by his ear and planted itself in the wall. His arm flew up subconsciously aiming toward the front door. His finger pressed the trigger, caused the release of the bullet. His eyes followed along his arm and looked into the eyes of the man that had taken the bullet. 

The man grunted in recognition, his voice colored with confusion and pain. "Ben?" 

The gun fell from Ben's frozen fingers as he saw the body of Robert Fraser go down. Another uniformed officer appeared in Robert Fraser's place, threw up his arm and pulled the trigger. 

Ben watched, the greatest pain he'd ever imagined washing through him as the bullet moved a slow course toward him. He welcomed its impact. Because he hadn't done his duty, this was punishment. This was what he deserved. He welcomed death. A death without honor. 

The scene changed, the bullet froze. Ben found himself standing outside of the scene, Carouthers beside him. 

The tall man silently reached a hand toward him. A piece of balled yarn lay there. "What do you want?" 

Suddenly, Ben remembered everything. He remembered the two choices he'd made. He remembered his other life in Chicago. He remembered Ray, and Inspector Thatcher. He remembered himself with honor. Ben took the yarn from the man. 

Blinking back residual dizziness, Ben gazed at the man sitting across from him. "Thank you," was all he could say. Although he wasn't sure why he was thanking the man. Somehow the memory of it was fading. 

The man nodded his head. And moved to depart. "You're welcome," he said, smiling mysteriously. 

Ben returned the smile, followed him to the door. He closed it with a sigh, wondering what that had all been about. Glancing at the ball of yarn in his hand, he felt clean, new, honorable. As if somehow, somewhere, he'd done something right. 

The End. 


End file.
